


Ironic War of the Knitting Pile

by ThePrettyTomboy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-20 02:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrettyTomboy/pseuds/ThePrettyTomboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, "How Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas Accidentally Turned Each Other On While Fighting Over A Pile Of Yarn".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ironic War of the Knitting Pile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [updateseventually](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=updateseventually).



> PROMPT: Davekat: penis Ouija turns into outright flirting~

Dave lounged on a pile of Rose and Kanaya’s discarded knitting, tapping the red pen he’d alchemized earlier that day—or night, who even knew anymore—on the edge of his rap journal, trying to work out a beat for his newest lyrics. He knew it was going to be sick, if only he could harness the raw epicness of it. But after a few more unsavory and totally uncool rhythms, he gave up and resorted to doodling a Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff comic so pregnant with irony he had to rush it to the nearest hospital, where it gave birth to a set of triplets. He had just finished marveling at his flawless delivery when he saw a flash of light on the other side of the room.

Karkat stepped off the transportalizer, exhausted from his latest search of the meteor for his absent moirail. As always, the expedition had been fruitless and disappointing, leaving him wanting nothing more than a long nap on one of the soft piles Kanaya and Rose had left scattered around the meteor for such occasions. He could have used a feelings jam to help ease his frustration so he could actually get to sleep. As it were, he decided he would reread his favorite romance novel until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Karkat was halfway to the pile when he noticed the red-clad figure already curled right where he had planned to settle himself. His eyebrows met and his frown deepened as he came to a stop right above Dave, casting his shadow over the journal he was holding.

There was a moment’s pause before Dave languidly turned his head to look up at the visibly pissed off troll staring down at him with so much venom it was starting to congeal in the air between them. “You’re in my light, bro," he said, his face and voice bearing as little expression as it ever did.

"Yeah well your bugwinged chagrin tunnel is in my pile and if it doesn’t move I’m going to chuck it across the room," Karkat responded, his eyes all but flashing red. He was not in the mood for Strider’s hoofbeastmanure.

Dave suppressed the overwhelming urge to ask Karkat what the hell he just said, catching enough of the “move your ass or else" drift to know he was being threatened over this one of the dozens of knitting piles all over the meteor. Had it been anyone but Karkat—and maybe the ever-elusive juggalo—he might have peacefully renounced his spot and moved to another; it would probably have been good for his dried well of creativity to find some new scenery. But he was especially bored and feeling especially confrontational, and what better way to take care of those needs than a tussle with the meteor’s resident hothead? Dave nestled down into the pile and began doodling the giant green douche he’d once seen blow up a dream bubble. “Sorry man, but this seat’s been claimed in the name of art and irony."

A flush of rage colored Karkat’s face. If it was a fight Strider was looking for, it was a fight he was going to get. Incensed, he ripped the journal and pen out of Dave’s hands and began scribbling over the hideous drawing, pressing so hard in his zeal that he ripped through the page.

"Oh hell no." Dave was on his feet the instant Karkat had damaged his precious rap journal. It was like painting eyebrows on the Mona Lisa, and although that would be ironic gold, Dave was having none of it. He ripped the book out of Karkat’s hand, but before he could snap it shut Karkat had lunged at him with the pen, aiming directly for the SBAHJ comic. Dave tackled Karkat to the floor, his journal landing safely on the pile, and grabbed hold of Karkat’s writing hand in both of his own.

Karkat grabbed one of Dave’s hands and pried it off of his wrist, intertwining their fingers and putting his full strength into pushing against it until he had successfully trapped that hand against the floor beside them. That done, he turned his focus on the hand holding Dave’s pen, which had been steadily inching toward his face for the past several seconds. He felt the hard tip of the pen make contact with his cheek and froze.

"Oh no, dude what are you drawing?" asked Dave as he moved the pen over Karkat’s skin. “It looks like…oh no KK I hate to break it to you but…it’s the return of the penis ouija." He made some ghost noises as he finished drawing a dick on Karkat’s face.

Snapping back to his senses, Karkat turned his head and caught the offending writing utensil between his teeth and bit down as hard as he could, snapping the fragile instrument and causing it to spew red ink like blood. Karkat spit out the half of the pen in his mouth in Dave’s face and dropped the other one on the ground.  
Dave stared down at Karkat, certain that he was wearing a bewildered look and glad for the protection his sunglasses provided both his dignity and his face.

Karkat used the opening to roll himself on top of Dave, straddling him and baring his teeth. He allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction when Dave began to squirm underneath him, panting from the exertion. “What’s the matter, Strider? Don’t like losing control?"

"Dude no, I am all kinds of in control," Dave lied. Truth be told, Karkat had settled into a particularly uncomfortable position on his lap. Or rather, a very  _very_  comfortable position that needed to stop because he was  _not_  going to get a boner for Karkat Vantas. Dave considered his options for gaining control of Karkat’s placement on—well, preferably  _off_ —his body. He could try sliding his body out from under Karkat, but that risked unpleasant and potentially embarrassing friction to which Dave wasn’t sure he was willing to subject himself. Instead he opted for a second option and released Karkat’s wrist, grabbing for the first handhold he came across, which happened to be one of Karkat’s horns.

It took Karkat a moment to register the cause of the pleasant wave of electricity that shot down his spine and the hot rush of blood flowing into his cheeks. He became acutely aware of Dave’s fingers brushing against the sensitive nerves at the base of his horns, and even more aware that _that was not okay_. As Karkat twisted his head to bite Dave’s forearm, Dave used the horn as leverage to throw Karkat off himself. Karkat landed hard on his side next to Dave, death grip on the human’s hand still in tact.

They lay together there, panting, until Dave pulled his hand free of Karkat’s and rolled over to crawl to the pile. He sat in front of the knitting with his legs crossed, looking from his journal to the pen Karkat had bitten in half and back. “Well fuck," he finally muttered. If he wanted to continue his raps he would have to go to the alchemiter to make another pen, all but forfeiting his knitting pile, which bothered him on principle. He looked over the find Karkat narrowing his eyes…no, no he was definitely closing them. Poor little guy was all tuckered out; who knew what he’d been doing before he’d come here looking for the pile. Dave decided to be the bigger guy and stood to leave.

Karkat opened his eyes when he heard the rustle of Dave’s cape, expecting to see him nestled back into the knitting pile with a smug grin on his face. Instead he saw him starting for the transportalizer, leaving the pile empty for Karkat to take. Just as Dave was stepping past him, Karkat moved his leg out just far enough to catch his foot, sending Dave nose-first toward the ground for a split second before he levitated like the smug godtier he was, only his shades continuing their descent. Karkat swiped them off the floor and scuttled over to to pile. He burrowed down with Dave’s most prized possession.

"What the fuck dude give those back I’m letting you have the pile god damn." Dave hovered over the ball of troll, searching for the best angle from which to reach in and rescue his beloved aviators.

"This is what you get for being a bulgemunching nookwhiffer," Karkat replied, relishing the flash of fury in Dave’s eyes that would normally have been hidden from view. It was satisfying to see Dave so vulnerable without his armor.

Dave growled, losing his iron hold on his cool. It was like Karkat had opened a window and his cool had been sucked right out of it by a passing twister, possibly one filled with angry sharks. “Oh my  _fuck_  Karkat give me back my shades before I have to open up a thousand-year-old can of ancestral Strider whoopass."

Rather than give in, Karkat rolled over onto his stomach, carefully shielding the sunglasses because the last thing he needed was to accidentally break them and unleash the wrath of the Strider. “No, fuck you."

Too aggravated to bother with flying, Dave dropped himself directly on top of Karkat and reached under the troll’s torso, searching blindly for his shades and trying his best not to accidentally grope Karkat. “Give. Back. The  _fucking_  shades," Dave grunted as he struggled on the knitting pile with Karkat.

"Nfff gedoffa me!" Karkat yelled as Dave pushed him down into the pile. He turned his head so he could breathe something other than hot scratchy yarn. “I already told you I don’t hate you that way, fuck off!" He pushed up onto his knees, thinking if he could get Strider off the ground he’d have enough leverage to throw him, maybe even enough time to make a dash for the transportalizer.

Dave’s head dropped onto Karkat’s shoulder at the sudden pressure on his crotch. Not this again. He rose into the air just out of the dangerous zone that apparently surrounded Karkat’s ass. “If you don’t have one of your fucked up alien hatecrushes on me then I would appreciate it if you’d stop grinding on me dude."

“ _What?_ " Karkat rolled into a sitting position, aviators safely nestled between the small of his back and a scarf. He yelped when Dave lunged through the air, long thin fingers again closing around the nubby horns on the top of his head. Karkat wrapped his hands around Dave’s wrists, fighting back a low groan. “Stop rubbing my horns or I’ll bite your hands off you snide fuckwit!"

The moment Dave realized Karkat was breathing a lot heavier than the situation warranted he jerked his hands back, his face contorting in disgust. He was pretty sure that whatever he’d just done was associated with the concupiscent quadrants. He backpedaled through the air until he slammed into the wall underneath a vent.

From the vent just above Dave’s head came an unmistakable  _honk_ , followed by the sound of someone crawling away in a hurry. Karkat was on his feet in an instant, running after what could only be his moirail. “Get back here and let me strangle you you purple-blooded douche!" He disappeared through one of the doors.

Dave floated over to the knitting pile and picked up his shades, which after a careful inspection showed were unharmed, he put back on. He lowered himself to his feet and retrieved his journal before heading for the transportalizer, deciding he would take a nap in his room before attempting to work out the beat to his ignored rap.


End file.
